Age Saw Two Quiet Children
by SinsofYouth
Summary: Third and final installment of the 'Ages After' series. Rated for a reason. Arthur Merlin lemon.


Reconsiliation

"Merlin."

He's standing in the kitchen, barefoot. His pale, naked back is to me. I can see his thin arms wrapping around his own lean torso.

He found pants somewhere between the bedroom and here. Or he conjured a pair, whichever. I'm thankful he took the time for modesty. I don't know what I'd be doing if he hadn't.

He never came back to bed. His absence forced me out of the patched blankets and dirty sheets; to go searching. It was part of the ritual we established. We would lie together on the same worn out mattresses Merlin slept on. I would pretend to sleep while wishing this person in my arms was the Merlin from my memory. I don't know if this Merlin knew; if he suspected, but he never mentioned it. He always left after I finished remembering my Merlin with his body. But he always came back so I could wish all night long.

Tonight, I was alone.

I don't know if he's stood here all night on a floor he told me not to tread without shoes. It hurts me a little to think he has. I care enough about him to hope he hasn't, even though he's not the Merlin I dream about.

I reach out and touch the tender skin at the small of his back. It's cold. My palm sweeps upward until it is curving over a bony shoulder and then this Merlin shivers. I'm not sure if it's from the chill or the intimacy of the touch. I haven't touched him outside the bedroom for hundreds of years. I don't know why I want to now, but I find myself craving the simple touch we once enjoyed so easily: the touch of love we felt through the words whispered against warm skin. It is an intimacy so foreign to us now I'm afraid it might feel wrong with this Merlin. But I want to try.

"You didn't come back." My voice sounds hollow.

Merlin shakes his head. His thick hair swishes over the back of his neck and ears. I want to kiss where the ends curl against his cool skin. I don't though. I don't know how this Merlin will react. My Merlin, the one I dream about, would groan and lean into my lips. He would turn to me. He would smile and we would fold together perfectly. The wonder of our rightness always blew me away.

I'm touching his shoulder. It's the closest we've been to that embrace in eons. I'm surprised by how natural this feels, how right; how like the Merlin I dream about.

"Why not?"

He shakes his head again. My fingers tighten on his shoulder. I don't mean to be harsh, but I do not want him to be silent. I want to hear his words. I want to know why he didn't come back, why, for the first time in centuries, he looks like the Merlin I remember.

"Why didn't you come back, Merlin?"

I've surprised us both. The shock is evident in his eyes when he turns. I haven't said his name aloud since leaving for the Crusades. I didn't realize how much I needed to until I felt it leave my tongue.

My fingers have fallen back to my side, dislodged when Merlin faced me. They itch to touch him again. They always have, but this hunger is burning under my skin, eating at me slowly. It's more than a craving for this body shaped like Merlin. I've been given hope, a glimpse, a glimmer, that this man might be the one from my memory.

He's staring at me. His eyes are full of surprise and sadness and a little bit of what I want to believe is hope. He was never hard to read. He wasn't complicated, not in what he felt, not my Merlin. Not this Merlin either, I guess. Maybe they are the same. I want to believe they are the same. I don't dare believe it.

He shakes his head a third time and tries to pull back into himself. I can see the shutters flickering back over his eyes. "You have people to save, that's why you're here..."

I'm getting frustrated by his evasiveness. I want a straight answer. We've been dancing around each other, decades, centuries, millennia, too long. I've suffered too long, sacrificed too much. I will not be denied this, not even by Merlin.

He starts to look down, to step back.

"No," I say. I grab him by the shoulders. I don't want to be rough. I just don't want him to turn away again. I can't lose his eyes, his beautiful, honest eyes. "Look at me." I have to repeat it twice. He obeys the second time. I want to cry in relief. His eyes are still honest, still open enough for me to see his surprise, his awe, his curiosity, his fear. It matches the fear in me and dissolves whatever anger was rising. I'm brought to my knees by those eyes.

"Please tell me." My father would be ashamed to hear me begging; king of Camelot. But I can't bear his silence; I cannot live with this Merlin's apathy any longer. "Please, I…need you to tell me." The more words come out of my mouth, the more I know they're true. I need him to tell me, because maybe he'll tell me he is the Merlin I dream about. I want him to be. I need him to be. I can't live without my Merlin any longer.

His eyes hold questions I don't have answers to. But they hold a brightness which belongs to the Merlin I remember, the same brightness I thought I saw last night while I made love to him. It is beautiful.

His lips open and close. My fingers flex on his shoulders.

He looks so lost. For an instant he looks absolutely terrified. "Because you're not Arthur."

His words strike me like a physical blow. I want to shake him. I want to grab my sword and kill something. I want to yell and scream.

"What are you talking about?" I let go of his shoulders and cross my arms. I ignore the protests my fingers make when they lose contact with his skin. "Of course I'm Arthur."

Merlin's eyes aren't shuttered, not yet. He looks mystified. He looks…hopeful.

He holds out his hand, carefully, almost hesitantly. His fingers are splayed, palm open. I see a flash of gold and warmth tingles over every inch of my skin. I don't know what he's doing to me. But when the gold fades from his eyes, tears have taken its place.

He takes one step, a second and third until we are so close I can smell him. He smells like rain and warmth and light. Just like the Merlin I remember. I never took the time to notice. I never thought…

"Arthur." He sounds confused, my name on his lips is a question and my chest aches when I hear it.

"Arthur." It's breathed, but I'm so close I can feel the breath fanning on my face. I'm so close to him now. The chill of his bare skin in soaking into mine, until we make our own warmth.

"Merlin." I whisper back. I don't know what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling. I'm speaking his name. He's speaking mine back. Our bodies, our whispered words are all that matters right now.

"Is this real?" I want to know. I pray I'm not dreaming. I don't want to wake up in the middle of that God-forsaken lake. I don't know what I would do then. This is the first glimpse of Merlin, the real Merlin, I've seen in so long.

He nods, his bangs brushing my forehead. "Yeah." He smiles. It isn't the smile I remember, not all of it anyway. But it's bright enough to make my chest squeeze again, but with warmth, not sadness.

I smile back. I know it isn't my whole smile, not yet.

My forehead is pressed against his and I'm flooded completely with sweet relief. My Merlin, the one I dreamt about, he isn't dead. I have him back. He's here with me.

I take his hand. I can feel his cold fingers tremble with the same relief filling me. My other hand is wrapping around his neck and we fit together. It's still so right, so utterly correct I'm blown away yet again. And one thought fills my head.

"Let's get out of here." I whisper the words against his lips and feel him smile again.

His eyes flicker and I'm suddenly very cold. I look around and see the lake; my lake. I don't know if this is what I had in mind when I said 'out of here'. This is the place where we're separated in the end, where our togetherness is boiled down to 'When' and 'Only a Matter of Time'.

I look back at him. He nods and I know it doesn't matter. We've never had enough time. Eventually, I have to go and I've known that. He's known that. I wish we'd been given a different fate; that I'd been allowed to live once, just once, with him.

But that's not my destiny. I've been born to a different role. So has he. What matters is that we've found our way back to each other. What matters is I have him now.

I reach out for him, but he is already in my arms. He knows what I'm thinking, he always has; my Merlin; this Merlin. That's why I love him.

I roll to the ground, enjoying the weight and press of his body. His thighs press against my ribs as I feel his chuckles painting my lips. We are aroused. I can feel that too.

The bare earth presses against my naked back, but I'm not cold. Merlin's eyes are gold; he's using his magic. I don't know what he did, but I don't care. I'm going to make love to him now.

He smiles down at me. It's the smile I remember, the one full of mischief. And then we're naked. The addictive warmth of his skin sinks into mine and I can't help but stare. My hands and fingers move on their own, tracing down his alabaster skin. He has new scars to mix in with the old. Every dip and shadow I chase while Merlin moans and sighs atop me. I know he is not faking this time. His eyes are touching mine, like I am touching him: completely.

He's shifting and I groan in utter appreciation when our cocks slid together for one excruciatingly beautiful moment. And then his hand is on me, working slick all over the brutally hard shaft. I can barely contain myself. The way he's being so careful, so forceful, so incredibly right. It's like I'm 15 again and I don't know if I can control myself for much longer. I'm so close to the edge, brought to the brink by the touch of his skin and eyes.

He's making sweet noises on top of me, the mixture of panting and whining. I'm caught between needing to see what he is doing to his own body and knowing the instant I do, I'll be finished. I want this to last longer, be better for him.

His wiggling and moaning goes on for too long and nowhere near long enough. I'm panting and aching by the time I feel him settling against my cock.

This is it. I'm going to lose it. But I need to look at him. I need to know it's him.

He's bearing down, taking me inside, inch my slow inch. I'm burning from the inside out. I'm losing it, on the brink and I don't even care. I feel his heat pressing against my thighs and I know it's time for me to see.

Merlin's eyes are stunning. They are wide as his chest heaves with shallow pants. The beginnings of sweat has beaded along his neck and inside his navel. I lean up to chase the salt on my tongue and Merlin's fingers card through my hair.

He sighs and lifts off me. I want to die. I'm panting against his belly as he gains momentum. I'm pushing into his heat, meeting each thrust of his hips. I'm drowning in light and sensation and the wonder of Merlin wrapped around every particle of my being. It's more than I can bear.

His hands press against my shoulders, forcing me to the ground, following me. I'm being chased by those eyes. I want to be caught. The angle this way is different and Merlin is rippling over me.

I can see it in his eyes, more than I ever hoped I would again. Merlin is crashing right along with me, plunging over the precipice, writhing in pleasure. He stares at me, the bluest eyes I have ever seen. His eyes tell me everything. His eyes tell me he loves me.

He loves me.

And in that moment we tumble over the edge together. I'm flung high, awareness expanding to fill the sky until thought becomes light and sensation is the new breathing.

We're lying together, sweat slick and breathing heavily. I'm reveling in the new, old rightness of us in each others' arms.

"You're going to leave me, Arthur."

I kiss his shoulder. I don't know what to say. It's true. "I'll always come back, Merlin." I touch his cheek, I want to see his eyes. He gives them to me, gives me his sadness too.

"But we'll fall apart, just like before. You're going to forget me and I'll start to hate you."

He blinks back tears. I lean down and kiss them away. My heart is breaking a little. I don't want to tell him he's right, but 2000 years of being apart is telling me he's right.

"No." I say the words. I mean them. "We're going to be together forever and not because of coins or fate or any of that crap."

I need him to understand why he can't shut himself away again, why I can't bear the thought of losing him to his armor and shuttered eyes.

"We fit, Merlin. We work. It doesn't matter how many times I lose you; how many times we say goodbye, we will always work."

He nods and settles back on my shoulder. The sun is starting to peak over the horizon. We've spent all night making love.

"We'll have to get up pretty soon."

"Yeah," I agree. "But not now."

He lifts his head and looks down at me. He smiles. "You're right. Not now."

We watch the sunrise together. I love the way the reds and oranges dapple his face. I know eventually we will have to leave. I have people to save. I have a lake to trod back into like the dutiful king I am.

But for now I have him.

I have my Merlin. The one I dream about.

And for now that's enough.


End file.
